Endless Possibilities
by Veromorphia
Summary: What if, by traveling through time, Trunks hadn't just created one new dimention, but more then he could ever imagine? This will begin like any other VB 'lost three years' fic, but will quickly turn AU.
1. Chapter One

Disclaimer: Dragon Ball Z is owned by the absolute genious Akira Toryama. I do not own these characters, or make any prophet what-so-ever off of this story. I write it out of respect for Akira, and his wonderful characters.  
  
-------------------------------------------  
  
**

Endless Possibilities

**  
  
**

Chapter One

**  
  
"AHHH!!!!", Vegeta screamed as he felt his knees almost buckle under the weight. Pain circulated through his every nerve, and he loved it. He glaced over at the screan, and in large green letters, in a written language that he was just beginning to learn, it read "450G". "Yes!" he said. "I am well on my way."_'Hmm...' he thought. 'Why not achieve my goal even faster.'_  
  
He smirked almost madly as he walked painfully over to the control pannel. After pressing a few buttons, he saw the digets fly by. Having already been practically on his back, he realized that this may have been slghtly foolish, but he was the Saiyan prince, after all. He could take it.  
  
As the numbers neared four-seventy-five, he began to question his abilities to withstand such a level. The last thing remembered before blacking out was moving his hand toward the power switch not quite fast enough, and then the whole world spiralling as he fell toward the floor...  
  
-----------------------------------------  
  
His vision faded in. He was in that bed again--always that bed, that white room. It chilled him to the bone with it's resembleancle to the room he would always awake in after a beating from Frieza. He never told the woman to stop putting him in there. That may have shown a certain weakness on his part, a level of fear, and he simply could not allow it.   
  
"Are you alright, Vegeta?" a soft concerned voice come from beside him. He turned to see the beginnings of tears in those big, blue eyes of hers. "Your heartrate...it was dropping. I...didn't know if you were going to make it this time." Her tears came openly now, glistening over her simetrical cheekbones, and off of her dilicate chin. She was the only creature who had ever cried for him. He probebly should have been more grateful.  
  
He replied, without a hint of feeling "Stop disgracing yourself, woman. I'm fine."  
  
"Your sure?"  
  
"Would you expect anything less of the Saiyan prince?" He smirked haughtily.  
  
"Good." she said before the concern on her face became rage. _'Here it comes.'_ he thought. "Five hundred G's, Vegeta? Five hundred G's?! What gave you the impression that your body could handle five-hundred times gravity?!!!"  
  
"I'm not weak." he responded in a voice that showed his annoyance.   
  
"Well, if not being able to achieve what you attempted is your idea of weak, then I think you are! Arg!" She wrung her hands together. "What were you thinking?! I thought I'd lost you!!!"  
  
"Yeah, and why would you care?! You've got your makeup, and your clothing, and your fancy cars--not to mention that pretty-boy human--to keep you satisfied! With all of your lavish crap hiding you from the real world, why would it even matter to you if I died?!"  
  
"Just because I have money, doesn't mean that I don't have feelings, Vegeta, but apparently being a short, arogent, little 'prince of all saiyans' does!"  
  
"Oh, so it's back to that again, is it?! You try going through what I did, and coming out of it eith a cheerful disposition! I swear, if I hear one more crack about my childhood, I'm going to--!"  
  
"Bulma, are you home...?" a voice said from outside the door. Yamcha emerged, holding what Vegeta assumed to be a dozen rozes, and he felt his anger rize.  
  
"GET OUT!!!" Vegeta yelled, firing a fairly week ki blast at the human, which sent him flying through a wall.  
  
"You bastard!!!" Bulma yelled at Vegeta, then ran to the fallen weakling. "Are you alright, Yamcha?" she asked him in the same soft, concerned voice with which she had adressed Vegeta.  
  
---  
  
"I'm fine." Yamcha said.  
  
"Good." Bulma let out a sigh of relief, and then hugged him. When she looked back at her lover, she was shocked slightly by the look of pure rage on his face.  
  
"I'd probeby be better if the little orphan boy here could keep his powerful emotions under control."  
  
She looked back at Vegeta, who, for the first time, did not respond to the insult directed toward him.  
  
"Yamcha--" Bulma began, before Yamcha cut off her sentence.  
  
"Why don't you just kill yourself and get it over with?!"  
  
"Yamcha--!"  
  
"Oh, right. If you did, it would dissapont all the people who care about you."   
  
"Yamcha--!!!"  
  
"How many is that again?--"  
  
"YAMCHA--!!!"  
  
"Oh right. I remember now." He smirked.  
  
Speachless, he looked back at Vegeta, who still did not respond. He didn't look particularly hurt, yet his eyes were directed toward the ground, and he seemed to be wearing somewhat if a...poker face. He opened his mouth as if to speak, then closed it again, and clenched his fists. With no emotion, he declared, "I have training to do.", and flew out.   
  
"Vegeta, no! Your still too injured!" She heard Yamcha's soft chuckling, and turned to him with clenched teeth.  
  
He stopped. "What's wrong?"  
  
"_What's wrong?_ Your what's wrong!"  
  
"What did I do?!" he asked innocently. "Oh...you mean what I said to Vegeta?"  
  
"Yes!"  
  
"Well, he phisically attacked me! All I did was joke around with him."  
  
"Joke around?! What kind of joke was that?! You could have seriously hurt his feelings! Do you know how sentitive he is?!" she yelled.  
  
"Let me think...not at all?"  
  
----------------------------------------  
  
From The Author: I know it's short, and seems to cut off in a strange moment, but the thing is that I haven't updated in a really long time, so I've been review deprived for a while, and as a great fanfic author named John Perry once said, "Reviews are the life-blood of the author." We need them to survive, so I'm a little weak from having no blood for a while. Once I get some more reviews, I should be back in the game! Bye!  
  
~Veromorphia 


	2. Chapter Two

_Disclaimer: DBZ is owned by Akira Toryama._  
  
*******************  
  


**Chapter Two**

  
  
Prince Vegeta approached his gravity chamber, and, grabbing the spandex shorts–made from the only material on the planet capable of withstanding the intense level–which hung outside the door, he angrily stomped inside.  
  
He jabbed at the buttons, caring not that he came close to breaking them, nor that the level he chose was far too intense for a person in his injured state. As the level came closer to his choice of 400G, he felt the bandages, and other items of clothing rip away, until only the shorts remained.   
  
The gravity reached his desired level, and the pain began, not the wonderful, satisfying pain of increasing his strength, but the pain of his already serious wounds being ripped apart, and becoming nearly fatal by human standards.   
  
His strength rose and fell, as the reaction of the adrenaline rush brought on by the harsh words of the human fluctuated between the fight and flight action.  
  
His teeth clenched, he punched furiously at the air, cursing the weak, pathetic creature, and feeling one of the larger wounds on his right arm tear. Blood poured from it onto the floor.  
  
_' "Why don't you just kill yourself and get it over with?" '_  
  
He collapsed onto the floor, applying pressure to the wound with his other arm.  
  
_' "...the little orphan boy..." '_  
  
Like an animal, he growled, and tore the wound harder, feeling tears almost well up in his eyes, almost, the whole time thinking furiously _'It's his pain!'_  
  
He allowed his head to drop, his normally erect Saiyan hair falling into his eyes. He heard some knocking on the door.  
  
---  
  
Bulma peeked inside the small window, and saw him on the floor. The gravity had brought his ebony hair down to frame his face. He looked up toward the door with those eyes...dark as coal, they were, and cold as ice...at first. But as his eyes met hers, they softened, filled with pain.  
  
Curled up there, his eyes wide, his hair down, he looked so human, like an injured child. Almost how she felt inside. She'd just come from a "discussion" with Yamcha. It hadn't gone too well...  
  


_~Flashback~_

  
  
"_Not at all?!_" she gasped. "I'll have you know, you insensitive bastard, that he is a very...hardworking...uh–"  
  
"You've got nothin'" he said smugly. "And I'll have you know that once someone's killed you, you shouldn't be expected to let them attack you with no questions asked! I hate him! Plus, everything I said was true."  
  
She thought back to his words. "Not everything. _I_ care about him, Yamcha, and I would be very disappointed if he died. I would be more than disappointed, I would cry, and I would curse you for ever suggesting that he commit suicide."  
  
"He would never kill himself." he said calmly. "The son of a bitch would chicken out."  
  
She gasped, then clenched her teeth, and slapped him, hurting her hand, and wishing with all her heart that he were, even if just for a moment, a man of normal strength.  
  
She knew that the slap had caused him no pain, but he brought his hand up to the area where her palm hand made contact, and rubbed it, looking truly hurt...maybe not physically.   
  
"Bulma...I..."  
  
"How could you say such a thing?!" she yelled. "Do you have any idea what he's been through?!!!"  
  
"Bulma...he...killed me, and you forgave him. He attacked me, and you get mad at me for it. So, I think the question is, do you know what I've gone through?"  
  
"You haven't gone through anything! You were just a little, pretty-boy vandal who was afraid of girls from what I understand!"  
  
"...How...How could you say that? You bitch! You have no idea what my life was like before I met you!!! You're the one who doesn't know what trauma is! You were just a spoiled little brat! Your daddy got you whatever you wanted, and you hadn't a care in the world! And...And _you're _explaining to _me_ what true suffering is?! You have no right, dammit!!!"  
  
"Get out." she said calmly.  
  
"Wha...?"  
  
"Get out!!!" she screamed, pointing toward the door.   
  
"Fine...I...don't need you! I can have all the woman I want!!!"   
  
And he was gone, faster than she could see.   
  
Wiping the small amount of tears from her eyes, she went to find Vegeta.   
  


_~End Flashback~_

  
  
And there she was, looking on at the injured boy before her. He didn't look at all like the Saiyan prince Vegeta in this state.   
  
She read the screen next to the door. "Four-hundred times gravity?! Vegeta, get out of there!" But he couldn't hear her. The walls were too thick.   
  
He began to get up, then put his hand to his injured knee, and fell again. She realized something then: in this level of gravity, he was human, or at least he felt the gravities affect on his injuries as a normal human would.   
  
She withdrew a master key, and used it to turn off the gravity. The door slid open, and Vegeta–as well as his hair–bounced back up and became Saiyan once again. He wasn't the injured human child anymore.   
  
She ran in. "Vegeta, what were you thinking...? You could have been killed..." she murmured, but was too caught in the swoon from memories of his human form, so innocent, yet so sad. She scanned his face again for those soft eyes, but was met with a pair of dark, cold orbs.   
  
"For your information, I was trying to train. You and that pretty-boy human mate of yours reminded me how horrible is to be weak. After seeing that sorry excuse for a warrior, I couldn't help but train."  
  
"Look, I'm really sorry about what Yamcha said. He's a jackass. He doesn't know–"  
  
"You thought that bothered me?" He chuckled. "In his dreams!"  
  
She shook her head. "You're so stubborn. It had to bother you. If not, then I just went through all of that for nothing." She remembered the fight, and began to cry softly.   
  
"What's wrong?" he asked, as if he actually cared.  
  
"I broke up with him, that's what's wrong!"  
  
"Finally!" he said. "Good riddance."   
  
He sounded way too joyful. "This isn't a happy occasion, Vegeta! He was my first and only love!"  
  
"Him?! You can do way better than him–" He stopped, blushing a bit.   
  
She stopped crying, and stared at him, as he began to turn away. "What do you mean by that?" she asked in a sly tone.  
  
"No-nothing." he murmured. "Simply that...ah...anyone could do better than that loser! I pity the hookers he's going to be paying after losing you! That is if he can afford them without your money."  
  
She couldn't help but laugh at this. "Yeah, me too. Hay, you know, your not so bad after all."  
  
"Whatever." he responded, approaching the door to his bedroom.   
  
"Hay." she said, touching his shoulder and feeling him flinch. "My mom just got done cooking a big dinner. Are you hungry?"  
  
He seemed slightly taken back. "I...usually just eat the provisions left by your mother in my room."   
  
"Oh, come on. You need some real food sooner or later." she said.  
  
"Well, sure then, I guess..." he said shyly.   
  
She smiled at him, and began to walk away. "You know," she said  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"You should wear your hair down more often."  
  
********************  
  
From The Author: Yeah, I know I haven't been updating much for this story. I would like to thank everyone who reviewed the first chapter. People said wonderful things about it, and I really appreciate your kind words! You guys are the best!  
  
Well, I'd better get coding. Bye!  
  
~Veromorphia 


	3. Chapter Three

"Vegeta, dear, you've barely touched your dinner." The bubbly blond woman who was Bulma's mother exclaimed with a smile. It was true, he was half way through the massive plate and full. He would have expected the average human to underestimate the appetite of a saiyan, but with these servings, you would think they were used to serving Nappa. She took another bite, then continued, "You don't eat nearly as much as that sweetheart, Goku."

'_So, that explains it._', he thought, rolling his eyes.

Just after the food left his mind, the embarrassment of being called "dear" raced to take its place.

"Don't call me that." that the only response he was able to muster for her cheerful exclamation.

The woman chuckled. "No problem, Sweetie."

He felt his cheeks burn. "Please." he said with some difficulty, desperate to remain calm.

Now Bulma chimed in. "Did I ever tell you that you look adorable when you blush?" And this, of coarse, only made things worse.

"Doesn't he, though?" The blond women said in a way Vegeta could only describe as a "kitten voice".

He stood up, panicking, wanting nothing more than to get out of there. And so he granted his own wish. "I think I need some sleep."

With a face that much have been nearly as red as the blood on his bandage, he left, sure that his speed would have caused him to virtually disappear before their eyes. He went into his bedroom--half angry; half exhausted--and drifted almost instantly into blissful and much needed slumber.

* * *

Vegeta sat on the small sofa the briefs had provided for him inside his bedroom, staring blankly at the little television set the woman had just brought in today. He'd turned it on once, and been bored with it for the most part. It wasn't his sort of entertainment. He was more content with simply thinking to himself, like he was doing now.

It had been two days since the incident, and most of his wounds were almost completely healed, the physical ones, at least.

The door opened, and Bulma stepped inside. "Ever heard of knocking?" he said, not even looking at her.

She walked toward him, and sat herself opposite him on the couch. Awkward silence filled the room. "Hay, Veg?"

"Hm?"

"Sorry about the other day."

"Whatever." he said, shrugging apathetically. "Forget about it."

"No." She slid her hand across the couch to touch his, and he felt himself flinch and blush slightly. "I won't forget about it. I should have been more sensitive. I deserve to apologize, especially after you made me feel so much better about Yamcha." He didn't say anything, so she continued, smiling a bit. "You know what? He called me yesterday, and I hung up, I didn't even begin to listen. I just put down the receiver."

He couldn't help but smile a little at this. "What about your 'first and only love'?"

Now he turned to her, and she blushed too. "It turns out that some things are more important." She gripped down on his hand, then let go, and stood up. "I care about you. You have to remember that, okay?" Again, he made no reply, so she simply left.


	4. Chapter Four

From the Author: Woah... It has _really_ been a while, hasn't it? I'm really sorry. Inspiration doesn't come easy during the summer. And time doesn't come easy during the school year.

I can't bealieve how much I've grown. The begginning of the chapter was on a whole different writing level than the end, so I had to do some editing. I still don't think I completely fixed it, though. '

Anyway, I hope you enjoy it!

* * *

During the previous week (the week following their little talk on the couch), that woman had been very friendly with Vegeta; smiling, winking, wishing him a good morning and such. At first it had been incredibly annoying, but at this point, he was just beginning to find it amusing, something small and slightly pleasurable to look forward to each day.

She nodded, walking in with his breakfast in hand. "Vegeta." She said, with a smile.

He nodded back, and took the food. "Thanks."

She just stood there with that big smile on her face, much bigger than usual, dreamy almost. Something was up.

"What's got you in such a good mood?" he asked.

Her smile melted off her face. "Huh—Oh, nothing."

He cocked an eyebrow. "Come again..."

She sighed, a small, embarrassed smile coming across her face. She paused. "Yamcha called. He said he had to tell me something." The smile began to grow, as if she couldn't help it, even as an apparent shame continued to grow in her aura. "I'm just really excited as to what it might be."

He felt anger at this, just enough to make it slightly difficult not to show. "Fine then. Have fun," he mustered, "but I still think the guy's an asshole."

She nodded, not looking up at him. "I know, I know." No smile this time; no wink; not even a good morning. She simply turned around and walked out the door.

**. . .**

Again, the Saiyan Prince sat on his little couch, not watching his television set, and reviewing the events of the day.

Though he knew that the emotion had no solid justification, he couldn't help but feel a little bit betrayed. For just a few days it had seemed almost as if... as if... he had made a friend. He shook his head in fury, not only at the woman but at his own disgusting and pathetic thoughts. He stood up. He had to train, he simply had to. It might help him clear his head. He made his way toward the door, and left the room.

Half way down the hall, something stopped him in his tracks. Soft sobs came from behind the woman's closed bedroom door. He began to turn the knob before he was greeted by the shrill voice of Bunny Briefs from inside the room. "It's alright, Darling. Everything will be okay."

He let go of the half-turned knob, and stepped back, not wanting to see that horribly-cheerful woman at all, but as the knob snapped back into place, it produced a small, quick clicking sound.

"Vegeta?" Bulma's tired voice came from inside.

He sighed and opened the door. "Woman." He acknowledged with a nod. He made no farther movement into the dark room.

The blond woman had her arm around Bulma's back, and was softly rubbing it, looking serious for a change, until she saw the Saiyan, at which point she smiled brightly in her usual way. "Vegeta, darling, good to have you back." He ignored the potentially-humiliating words and focused on the look of pure anguish on the face of the blue-haired woman sitting next to the annoyance.

"What is it, Bulma?" he asked, vaguely surprised by the soft, concerned tone of his own voice.

She looked up at him as if to speak, but quickly closed her eyes and crumbled back into tears.

"Sh... Sh..." the mother whispered into her ear. The older woman looked back up at the prince, and spoke softly. "It's Yamcha... Bulma thought that he—"

"Mom!" she spit out in a harsh whisper. "If I want Vegeta to know, I'll tell him myself."

The other woman nodded. "Of coarse, Dear." She rose from her seat upon the bed, and walked to Vegeta's side, putting a hand on his shoulder and whispering into his ear. "Talk to her, OK, Sweetie? She gets along good with you." She began to leave.

Vegeta frantically grabbed her arm. "Wait! No. Where are you going?" Comforting emotional women had never been his strong-point.

She giggled lightly, and glanced at his hand, raising her index finger and waving it playfully back and forth. "Now, now, now, Veggie, I'm a married woman."

He released his grip and stepped back, dumbfounded, and sure that he was blushing. _You bitch! _

"Cutie." She said, putting a hand on his chest and giving him a shove back toward the bed, quickly leaving and closing the door behind her.

So there he was; alone with her...

"Vegeta... he..." she whimpered from behind him.

He barely realized his own actions as moved toward the woman, and sat down beside her on the bed. "What? What did that bastard do to you?" he said, the words themselves sounding strange for all the caring in his voice.

"Well, it's more what he _didn't_ do." she said.

"Hmm?" he inquired.

"Well, when he called, and said that he loved me... that he had something to tell me... I just thought... Well, I guess I was naïve, but I thought he wanted to marry me."

He almost rolled his eyes. "Is that _it_?"

She seemed angry at him all of a sudden, almost raging. "No, that's not _it_!" She sighed heavily. "It's what he _really_ wanted to tell me..."

He sat silently, waiting for her to continue.

"Vegeta, he told me that he cheated on me..." Before he could even protest, she wrapped his arms around his waist and began to cry softly into his chest. _Thank Kami I showered today_ was all he could really think. He was frozen, his arms stretching out behind him on the bed, and supporting his weight as he leaned back slightly, knowing that he should embrace her, but being far from prepared for such a thing.

"That's... that's..." He was having trouble forming words. This was extremely awkward to him, almost more than he could handle.

"Why would he do this to me?" she whimpered, so helplessly as to melt a heart of steal. He sat up strait and wrapped his arms gently around her much like the older woman had been doing. She seemed to relax just a bit, leaning limply into his warm embrace. "I..." She let out another shivering breath. "I didn't mean to hurt him. I didn't mean to make him feel like it was over. I just..." She spoke no more. She simply sat with him, embracing him, beginning to run her fingers gently up and down his spine. This made him slightly uncomfortable, even as it threatened to awaken something primal in him that he hadn't felt in many a year.

When her crying seemed to have stopped, he spoke again, in a voice that still sounded so unlike his own. "Are you alright?"

He felt her nod, and sit up straighter, leaning her head on his shoulder and brushing her lips against his cheek. "Thank you so much, Vegeta. You're such an angel."

He felt the burning in his cheeks again. "No. You know that's not true. Don't say it."

"But it is." She put her arms around his neck, and moved back slightly, so he could see into her eyes. He caught himself thinking of her beauty again. Those bright, beautiful aqua eyes, that silky skin. "I'm so lucky to have you here." He felt one of her hands tangle in the back of his hair. She leaned toward him, kissing his lips.

Before he could even remember where he was, he was kissing her back, deeply, passionately. She was scraping his spine again.

_Oh, if only I still had a tail!_

He could hear his heart beating in his ears. He could feel himself being pulled in, into this deep, dark, primal place he hadn't visited in so long. And here she was, enticing it all.

There was no going back.

* * *

From the Author: As always, review! :-P 


	5. Chapter Five

_From the Author: Eight months, I know! I'm sorry. It's after two a.m., and I have school tomorrow. I just read over this whole story, and all of its reviews so far, and I felt a strong urge to continue. Maybe I should read my own stories more often. lol. _

_In any case, I had very high expectations for this story at one point, but I guess it just got away from me...Why do I write best in the middle of the night while the rest of the word sleeps? sigh I want my summer vacation back._

_In any case, I hope you enjoy the chapter._

**

* * *

**

Chapter Five

At one point, they'd both seemed to hesitate for their own reasons, but then one of them had whispered—and Vegeta couldn't for the life of him remember which one it had been—"We can make each other feel better. Heal my broken heart?" Ah, it had been her—it had to have been.

They'd made love long into the night. Vegeta had whispered things into her ear that he never would have imagined to exist in his cold mind—"my beauty," "fair-skinned goddess," "my precious jewel."

After they'd exhausted each other, he'd kissed her quickly on the lips and stood up.

Tiredly, she'd gripped his arm. "Our little secret?" she'd asked, smiling.

"Of course," he'd replied, and left.

Now, laying against the pillows in his bed, exhausted and half-asleep—a man's own adrenaline could always do that to him regardless of strength or training, he thought—he realized fairly quickly that he hadn't felt so good in years.

It seemed a great burden had been lifted from his shoulders. His mind had been pulled almost completely from the dark void that had, since his childhood, been threatening to consume the last of dying soul. The worst was over, it seemed, and perhaps life could go on. Perhaps it could be peaceful. Perhaps there could be something more than blood and anguish, training and frowning.

He was actually smiling as he drifted off to sleep that night, his only minor regret being that he was not still in that bed next to her. But there would always be more time for that. Now, he would sleep. And dream peaceful dreams.

- - -

She woke him the next morning by sliding into his bed next to him. He glanced calmly at the clock. It was just after four a.m. He should have been training soon. But that could wait.

"Been dreaming of you," she whispered, kissing him passionately.

He surrendered to it, feeling his heart warm as other parts seemed to burn, and he took her again.

"Do you love me?" she asked pleadingly when they were done.

He hesitated, and she kissed him again, surprising him, and invoking him, making him feel indebted to her, addicted to her.

"Do you love me!" she cried, flushed.

"Yes," he said.

"Say that you love me!"

"I love you, Bulma Briefs." The statement felt sincere as they collapsed into each others' arms. It felt sincere and inevitable, surprisingly unthreatening. And it had been true for a very long time. "Will you be my queen?" he smirked.

"Love to," she said, and this time, as they began to surrender to each others' passion, Vegeta bit her savagely on the neck, opening a wound which bled onto the sheets under them. She gasped, terrified.

"Now, you're my queen," he whispered, surprised at himself. He barely knew the woman, and he had made her his forever. But he wasn't getting any younger, and it felt so right.

After cleaning and dressing the wound, she went back to her bed and fell asleep.

- - -

Bulma seemed to misunderstand the bond mark, as if she couldn't quite grasp its meaning. But that didn't stop her from finding Vegeta in the gravity chamber later and turning off the power, seducing him right on that floor where one malfunction could leave her "dead as the cat on the side of the road, and much flatter," as she so coyly put it.

He tried to speak to her with his mind, but apparently the bond didn't come easily between species'. The sex on the other hand—it was the best either of them had ever had. So Vegeta was satisfied.

It went on secretly for at least a month. And for Vegeta, that month was bliss. It was adventure and happiness the likes of which he had never reallyhad a chance to experience before. And it was harmless, a give-and-take situation that left both of them and neither of them to blame. A natural relationship, a spontaneous relationship that always seemed to lead to the same thing, but which had roots that went much deeper into Vegeta's heart.

He never wanted it to end, but of course it had to. What wonderful thing had ever lasted very long for the Saiyan prince?

* * *

_From the Author: Please review?_


	6. Chapter Six

Vegeta was fifteen years old. He lay beside his perfect queen, his Saiyan queen, on that cold Ice-jin ship he had always so despised. His queen was a petite Saiyan woman, almost a head shorter than Vegeta himself. She was a year or two younger than him and very beautiful. Her hair was a dark bluish-grayish black color, and reached thickly to her tiny waist. Her eyes were deep pools of onyx. They held the secrets of a warrior's struggle and a woman's heart.

He'd found her on a routine purging mission the day before on the planet of a weak humanoid race. He'd been dumbstruck when he spotted her tail, waving calmly behind her as she watched her village burn to the ground. Her face was sad, but not wretched. Her sorrow was calm, touching. She wasn't a part of this place—never had been. She'd seen Vegeta shortly after that and spoken to him, softly, calmly: "Have you come to take me home?"

He'd taken her back to the ship with him, and they had talked. She had been sent as a baby to the planet he'd just purged. As a small child, she'd stopped receiving transmissions from the home planet—for obvious reasons which Vegeta solemnly explained to her—and her mission had never been made very clear.

"Well," he'd told her, "You were most likely sent to purge that planet, but that's alright—it's finally done." He had smirked. "Do you know who I am?"

"No."

"I'm your prince," he'd said haughtily. "And I've been waiting for you for a very long time."

After a night of spontaneous lovemaking—the first such night of Vegeta's life, though he didn't mention that—she had turned drowsily to him and told him that she loved him. And Vegeta, not truly knowing the meaning of the word but also not feeling threatened by it, had responded:

"Would you like to be my queen?"

"Of course." And they had made it official, bite-mark and all.

Now, he lay beside her. It was early morning, perhaps very late night. Since they weren't on a planet with a rising sun, he could only judge by the clock on the nearby wall. She slept peacefully beside him, her fingers coiled around his muscular bicep. Where they would go to establish their family, how he was going to hide her on this ship until then, what Frieza would do if he found out about this—none of it mattered for that splendid moment, that moment of pure and utter peace, of true happiness—it was so alien to him, but in such a welcome way.

"Naja," he whispered softly, and her eyes fluttered open.

She smiled. "Vegeta." She kissed his cheek.

"How are you, my queen?"

"Wonderful. You?"

"Never better."

They lay and talked for several minutes, until it was practically time for Vegeta to get up and begin his day's training. He dressed before her, explaining the plan one last time. "Alright, Naja," he said, pulling on his blue shirt. "We'll be touching down on a planet tonight. I'm going to get you out of this ship. We're going to find a small ship somewhere else on the planet and I'm going to steal it. We'll find some place to lay low for a while and eventually find a planet to call home." His voice had weakened at the end of the sentence. He cleared his throat. "You stay in here and make sure nobody sees you. If you hear someone coming, hide. Under the bed, in the closet—it doesn't matter. Just don't get spotted."

"Right," she said.

"And Naja?"

"Yes?"

His voice faltered before he could say it, those three words which may or may not have been true. He couldn't be sure. He had never felt this way before. But he wanted to say it. He wanted to say _I love you_ at that moment. Instead he cleared his throat. "Don't forget any of it, my queen."

"I won't, my king."

He turned away as he felt another alien emotion creeping into his heart. He slipped on a final white glove and walked to the door. When he opened it, his heart stopped beating, at least for a few moments—he was sure of it. Lord Frieza stood at the door, a playful smirk contorting his black lips.

Vegeta turned and glared desperately at Naja. The girl quickly and quietly scurried under the bed. He turned back to Frieza.

"Mind if I come in?" the Changeling prince asked, immediately shoving past him and walking into the room, looking around. His arms were crossed and his eyes were inquisitive.

Vegeta was sure that he was the picture of absolute terror, hard as he tried to remain calm. If the Saiyan queen was to peek out from under the bed right now, she would see Frieza's disgusting three-toed, bird-feet walk slowly and calmly no more than four feet from her face. Vegeta prayed that she wouldn't scream.

"I thought I heard voices, little prince." Frieza chuckled.

Vegeta cleared his throat again. "I…um…Nappa and Radditz were here earlier. Is that what you mean?"

Frieza approached him. "Nappa and Radditz are on a mission, little prince, a mission that you are supposed to be on right now."

"…I'm not feeling well."

"Is that so? You should have reported this to me before you just up and skipped your mission. What seems to be the problem?"

Vegeta thought frantically. "My ribs. I got a good hit on that last mission. They…I think they're bruised. I just need some time—." Vegeta coughed, shocked. Frieza had kicked him firmly in the chest. "Why—?"

"Better?" He smirked.

Vegeta coughed again, frantically trying to force some air into his burning lungs.

Frieza walked over to the bed. He approached the side under which Naja had gone and looked down, seemingly at the surface of the bed.

"You must know the penalty for..." Frieza stopped and smirked, his eyes boring into the bed. "…for skipping a mission."

"I'm sorry, Sir," Vegeta almost choked, "It won't happen again."

"I'm sure it won't." Frieza reached for the bed. Vegeta's blood froze. The smirking Changeling grabbed the corner of the blanket and bulled it up, dropping it lazily. "You should really keep this place neater. A high-class warrior ought to know how to make his own bed."

Vegeta nodded, sure that he was trembling, that his eyes were comically wide. "Of course, Lord Frieza."

Frieza smiled at him with an artificial warmth that was absolutely terrifying. "That's a good boy. Now…" The smirk reappeared, the evil smirk. "What were you doing with a girl on my ship? That is strictly prohibited, you know."

"I know," he choked, for a second, thinking: _Maybe he's kidding. Maybe he doesn't really know. Don't let on that—_

But it was too late. Frieza was reaching under the bed. He pulled a naked Naja out by the shoulder and held her up. "What a pretty little thing you are." Frieza gripped down on the shoulder and Vegeta heard a snap.

Naja shrieked.

Vegeta winced. "Let her go!" he yelled, flying at Frieza, the eternal enemy, the foe of his every wasted year. He kicked Frieza in the head, but the tyrant didn't move an inch.

"Vegeta!" she yelled, sobbing. And then she pleaded with Frieza—pleaded with the devil: "Let go! Please! Stop it!"

Then Frieza laughed, high and loud, and Vegeta wanted him dead more than anything. He wanted him suffering…

Frieza used the hand not holding the girl's shoulder to gently stroke her cheek. "Such a beautiful little thing. What made you want to trespass on Lord Frieza's ship?" His long nail traced a cut across Naja's delicate cheek, and she whimpered. "Oh." Frieza turned to Vegeta. "It was him, wasn't it? You never should have listened to him, darling, he only got you into trouble." He made a matching cut on Naja's other cheek.

Vegeta knew that Frieza was going to kill her—probably him as well. He was going to take her life—his lover, his queen, perhaps the last female Saiyan in existence, the mother of his future children and new Eve of the Saiyan race…She was to be stamped out just like that, in a lizard's grudge.

"Let her _go!"_ Vegeta yelled, lunging himself at Frieza. He bit down hard on the fingers that held Naja's shoulder.

"_Ah!"_ Frieza yelled, letting go of Naja, who fell to the floor. "Filthy _animal!"_ He raised his hand and hit Vegeta hard in the face. The Saiyan prince careened into the wall, clutching his jaw.

When Vegeta opened his eyes, they were gone, Frieza and Naja both. He ran out into the hall, but found no sight of them. He traveled through the corridors, occasionally coming to a servant or a passing warrior, and they were no where to be found.

- - -

Frieza didn't come back for him that day.

Within the next day, he got the strong feeling from his forming royal bond that Naja was gone. It seemed that Frieza had destroyed his lover, and that that had been punishment enough. He had been given a second chance to change his ways. "My queen…" he said, softly, blankly.

- - -

When Nappa and Radditz returned from their mission, they found Vegeta sitting quietly on his bed, looking broken as he had when his father passed away years ago. They had heard what had happened, apparently. They looked uncomfortable.

"Veg…" he heard Nappa say distantly.

"I'll kill him, Nappa. Someday, I'm going to kill him."

"I know…" his second-in-command said unsurely. Radditz remained silent.

For a moment, Vegeta saw through Nappa's eyes, and was pleased at what he saw. A young Saiyan prince, blank, tearless, with eyes that seemed to say: _Frieza, you will suffer for this. As for me, I'll make sure I never go through it again…_

_- - -_

Vegeta awoke in a cold sweat. He was lying next to Bulma, his human lover, though he suddenly felt fifteen years old all over again. He suddenly felt the death of his Saiyan queen as sharply as if it had just passed. "I never cried for her…" he whispered to himself.

Bulma seemed to have heard him. She reached over and took his hand. "It's alright, handsome, go back to sleep."

There was a crash and then an evil presence in the room. Frieza stood before the bed, alive and well, as if the battle with Goku had never taken place. And through the darkness, Vegeta could see him smirking. He had returned to take it all away from him again, to take Bulma as he had taken Vegitasie, as he had taken his father and his young queen. He had returned and would always return until he was sure that Vegeta had nothing left at all, and then he would give Vegeta another chance. A chance at _what?_ A chance at a few more years of pain and suffering.

He took Bulma by the shoulder and she shrieked. Vegeta felt that he would never die.

- - -

Again he awoke, heart thudding within his chest, breaths loud and painful. He was sitting up in bed, his arms crossed as if to ward off the cold.

Bulma stirred beside him. "Vegeta…? What is it?"

"Nothing." He swallowed, and blinked to try to calm himself. _Damn it, it was a dream! Get over it!_

"Veg…?" She sat up and put a hand on his shoulder. "What's wrong?"

"It was a dream!" he snapped. "Go back to sleep."

She withdrew, seeming wounded by his words. "You don't want to tell me about it?"

"No."

"Please?"

"Get off it, woman!"

"Vegeta, I love you…Please tell me what's wrong…"

After a bit more gentle persuasion, he told her the story of Naja, of Frieza's cruelty and of his own fear and suspicion that Frieza might still be alive.

By the end of the story, he had calmed. Bulma was crying, her arms around his shoulders as if to bring him comfort.

"You see? I've only upset you," he said.

"No, Vegeta, it's fine…" She kissed him. "I'm so sorry. How can I be such a selfish person when you…?" she trailed off into a sob.

"Bulma…"

"Shh…"

"I never cried for her," he said unexpectedly.

"…Would you cry for me?"

He considered. "No. Let's go back to sleep."

Again, she seemed hurt. "…OK, Vegeta. I love you."

"…I know, my queen."


	7. Chapter Seven

**Chapter Seven**

The affair went on for over a month, at which point his queen decided that it had gone on long enough.

Vegeta heard the man's voice from the other end of the building. He had just finished an intense training session and was soaked with sweat. He followed the sound of the voice until he was standing just outside the room from whence it came.

"Bulma, I'm sorry," the man said.

Vegeta smirked, listening anxiously for Bulma's sassy reply. "I know," she said. "I'm sorry, too." The prince's heart sank, just as his body slid down along the wall until he was sitting against it on the floor.

"Forgive me?" he asked.

"I already have. Honey…." Her voice trailed off and Vegeta thought he heard them kiss. "Yamcha, I'm pregnant."

Again, Vegeta's mind did a double-take. There was such finality in the simple phrase. Would the man run now? Would he change his mind and run?

"That's wonderful," the voice beamed. "Darling, that's the best news I've heard in a long time." More faint sounds of kissing. "I want you to marry me, Bulma Briefs."

She would say no, the prince told himself, she had already chosen her king. "Of course! I love you, Yamcha."

Vegeta wanted to get up—he wanted to run—but it seemed as if the training had worn on him after all. He couldn't move. He could only sit in his place against the wall and run his fingers through his own hair.

She was nothing, he reminded himself, an alien, a pest, something he had meant to exterminate only a few years ago.

"You bitch," he whispered to the darkness around him, inside him. "You made me say…that I loved you…_loved_ you…you _bitch_!"

His queen and her lover left together. He heard the large front door slam shut.

* * *

_Note: Please review.  
_


	8. Chapter Eight

**Chapter Eight**

The woman did not return to the palace until the next morning. Vegeta sensed her arrival more than he heard it.

She made no effort to talk to him, even skipped her nightly visit to his room. He trained harder than usual that night—so much energy to burn. If the woman kept this up, he'd have Kakarot defeated in no time.

- - -

It was a week later when she knocked on his bedroom door. He answered it immediately. "Woman." He nodded.

She walked into the room. "I haven't seen much of you lately."

"Oh?"

"Yeah….Vegeta, what happened between us…."

"What about it?"

She cleared her throat. "It's still our little secret, right?"

"Yes," he said, not meeting her eyes. "Our little nothing."

That silenced her for a moment. "It didn't mean more to you than I thought?"

"No."

"Alright." She turned away from him. "We're holding the wedding in a month. I want to do it before I get too thick around the middle."

"Good for you."

"I want you to come."

"I'll think about it."

"Vegeta, what is there to think about? You've got nothing but time!"

Her outburst made him flinch, and he cursed himself for it. "I'll be there."

"Thank you. I still care about you, Vegeta, I just…."

Finally, he brought his gaze up to meet hers. "It was _nothing_, and I've been aware of that since the beginning. Stop patronizing me."

She nodded. "Alright."


End file.
